


Sex Kitten From Hell

by Reyanth



Category: Tenipuri - Fandom, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6486337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuji, too sexy for his own good, drives Tezuka mad with want. What Tezuka wants, Tezuka gets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the Tezu/Fuji I have written, this is the only time I have painted Tezuka so aggressively and my god it was fun!

“Tezuka… Tezuka, come on,” Fuji muttered, backing up. He knew he should be saying things like, ‘stop’ and ‘go away’, or ‘I don’t want this’. Instead, feeble protests slipped out of him, things that could be disputed. He used Tezuka’s name, his tone hinting that he wanted the vice captain to back off, his words insinuating that he wanted everything but. “Please… You shouldn’t…”

Tezuka’s sharp eyes pinned him and he stopped backing away, only half realizing that the halt was partially due to the wall he was flattened against. Tezuka closed in, his proximity causing Fuji’s breath to catch.

Then he felt Tezuka’s arms reach out beside him, bracing against the wall, caging him. He couldn’t possibly fathom why that turned him on so very much…

So he stopped trying, but only after he felt Tezuka’s soft, full lips brush his own, and instantly parted them to accept the vice captain’s probing tongue. He moaned, softly, the sound beginning as a pathetic final attempt at protest and ending in pure pleasure. Tezuka had the sweetest, sexiest, smoothest tongue in the world. It slid against his own, flicking and teasing, and shortly after Fuji finally admitted to himself he wanted more, it curled about his, drawing him deeper into Tezuka’s kiss. Was this what it was like to be caught in Tezuka Zone? 

He moaned again, and Tezuka sucked gently on his tongue, drawing out a second, longer, deeper moan. Fuji vaguely realized that he was hard, just from the kiss. Thinking about it made him gasp as he grew harder still.

Then Tezuka shifted, brushing against Fuji’s erection and making him cry out into the kiss. “Aaiyuhmnnn...”

Tezuka chuckled, the sound vibrating against Fuji’s lips, sweeping over his tongue, and traveling all the way down to his now rigid cock. By that point, Fuji just wanted to come. He didn’t care how. He wanted relief.

He didn’t realize Tezuka’s lips were gone from his until they covered the head of his erection. He cried out again and thrust involuntarily into Tezuka’s mouth. When the hell had that bastard unzipped his jeans and pulled him out of his boxers?

For that matter, when the hell had Tezuka, Kunimitsu—stoic vice captain—become the sex kitten from hell!?

That thought alone sent Fuji over the edge, and Tezuka’s dexterous tongue and warm, wet lips provided insurance as he came, long and hard, soiling his vice captain's mouth with pulse after pulse of his orgasm. Still trembling from little aftershocks as Tezuka licked him clean, Fuji briefly wondered how they had ended up at this point in the first place… Ah, yes…

*

Tezuka’s eyes narrowed slowly. At first he had assumed Fuji flaunted himself purposely, but Tezuka was extremely adept at reading people, and he slowly figured out that the smiling genius really had no idea of how he affected people. Somehow, that just made him even sexier.

Every move, sound, and expression Fuji made distracted the people around him. Those who didn’t notice or acknowledge their reactions were affected just as strongly as those who did—such as Tezuka. In fact, most people probably never noticed their breathing hitch or their bodies grow just a little warmer. Most people probably didn’t question the image of Fuji that flashed before their eyes as they came, touching themselves at night. It was subtle… in most cases.

To Tezuka, it was fire. He noticed every time his breathing changed, every time he grew warm with lust, every time his shorts felt just that little bit tighter, every time his racket slipped in a sweaty palm and oddly slack grip. He noticed because it was so completely alien to him.

Teenaged boys masturbated. They had wet dreams. They fantasized about older women (and sometimes older men). 

Tezuka played tennis. And studied.

The first time he woke up thrusting his hips as he came, sweaty all over, and barely able to breathe, he lay there in terror, staring up at the ceiling. He had remembered every dirty detail of the sordid dream that had brought him to such an unexpected climax.

Previously, he had ‘tried’ masturbating, but nothing ever seemed to get him excited enough. At first just the act of touching himself in that sensitive area had gotten him started, but he never came. He just didn’t. 

Until Fuji.

After that dream, he had been unable to tear his eyes from the subtle peeks of Fuji’s thighs and torso as he moved, nor the way Fuji’s smile seemed so sexual at inappropriate times. Fuji’s voice had sounded in his head almost constantly, laughing at him, murmuring to him, scolding him… And once, he seen Fuji naked in the showers and had to walk out of the room immediately, sporting a distinct and persistent hard on.

Naturally, he was confused, angry, and frustrated. However, instead of even contemplating any other possible course of action, Tezuka instantly became set on one idea the moment he decided to do something about it. He was going to do to Fuji what the genius did unknowingly to him.

He was going to confuse Fuji, throw him completely out of whack, take control of him, and most importantly—he was going to make Fuji come, thinking of him and wanting him. Oh, yes. He was.

*

Everyone was gone. Tezuka and Fuji were alone in the locker room—the ‘locked’ locker room. 

Tezuka had the keys.

“Uh, Tezuka, I’m still here…” Fuji informed him, sounding not in the least put off and rather amused. He cocked his head to the side. “For that matter, why are you locking yourself in?”

Tezuka pocketed the keys, turning slowly towards the genius. He smirked slightly, knowing that it was highly uncharacteristic of him. All the better to shake Fuji’s foundation up a little.

“You’re staying here,” he said. “With me.”

“Aa... I really should go, Tezuka-san. My brother-”

He cut off as Tezuka moved toward him taking Fuji’s chin in his hand. “Your brother can wait,” the vice captain murmured, his eyes dropping to Fuji’s lips.

Fuji slipped away as Tezuka made to kiss him, which only made the vice captain’s smirk spread into a grin. Who knew this could be so much fun?

“Please unlock the door, Tezuka-san,” Fuji asked of him, smile slipping.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Fuji,” he said. 

“Ah. Why not?” Fuji breathed, watching him much like a sleepy deer watches an oncoming car.

He was too calm, far too calm, but just that slight hint of comprehension… apprehension… it was sexy in that oh so ‘Fuji’ way.

“Because, right now I have you alone—all to myself,” Tezuka replied, taking a step toward the genius. 

Maybe Fuji did know how much of a tease he was and was simply unable to help it…

“Tezuka-san.” Fuji licked his lips. “This is a bad idea, I promise…”

Tezuka didn’t listen. He knew it was a bad idea, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking it—or acting on it. He wanted Fuji so badly he could barely think of anything else from morning till night, and from night until morning his dreams were no different.

He wasn’t the type to force anything on others, but he was firm. He didn’t like to allow his emotions to surface, but he could be passionate about some things. Now, he was passionate about Fuji, and until he got the slightest signal that his advance was truly unwanted, he would not back off.

Words meant nothing. Actions meant everything.

“Tezuka…” The honorific was dropped. “Tezuka, come on.” Tezuka matched Fuji step for step, backing him up against the wall. He could ‘feel’ the desire coming from Fuji, even if the tensai didn’t acknowledge it himself. There was that unwitting sexiness again. He wanted so badly to be touched, but he wouldn’t even admit that to himself. That was why the desire came out in his body language, his speech… “Please…” A slight tremble, though not of fear. “You shouldn’t…” Not ‘don’t, ‘you can’t, ‘I can’t’, or ‘stop.’ 

Tezuka closed the distance, first pinning Fuji with his eyes and feeling as though just that one look was its own act of intercourse. He heard Fuji’s breath catch, and placed his hands on the wall to either side of the genius’ head.

Fuji was aroused, he could tell. He could smell it… sense it. The calm, cool, collected Fuji was now slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed, his normally guarded eyes flitting about Tezuka’s face… It made Tezuka mad with desire.

Reining in his lust, he slowly leaned in to caress Fuji’s lips with his own, pleased and aroused by the almost instant capitulation as the genius welcomed his tongue with the most stimulating little moan. Tezuka played with him, teasing his lips and tongue until Fuji actively sought more, trying to press further into Tezuka’s mouth. That was when the vice captain took complete control of the kiss, stroking and manipulating Fuji’s submissive tongue. 

His erection twitched at Fuji’s gasp, and he shifted, grazing against the significant bulge the tensai sported. His prey cried out, and the sound sent Tezuka’s libido into a frenzy. He mentally calmed himself down, and chuckled. Fuji was just so unbelievably cute and submissive. Who would have thought that someone who always seemed to be in complete order could ever sound so out of control?

Sensing the shift in Fuji’s inhibitions, or sudden lack thereof, Tezuka concentrated on kissing Fuji senseless as he reached down to unbuckle the genius’ belt. It wasn’t long at all before he abandoned Fuji’s lips, wrapping his own about the engorged head of the genius’ cock. 

He thrummed it with his tongue, wasting no time as he knew Fuji was already very close. He was highly responsive, growing so hard just from a kiss. As Tezuka felt the telltale swell, sucking and licking as he drew out Fuji’s orgasm for as long as possible, he wondered if it was possible to make Fuji come from kissing alone. 

That was definitely something he was going to have to try.

Fuji trembled as Tezuka lapped up what little he had missed. He gently tucked Fuji back into his boxers, and fixed the genius’ jeans as he stood, looking straight into hazy blue eyes.

Seeming almost sleepy, Fuji slowly blinked, his expression slipping into the familiar smile once more. 

“What was that about?” he asked, though his voice trembled slightly as he spoke, shattering the indifferent façade.

Tezuka slipped his arms around the genius’ waist, holding in a groan as his erection poked into Fuji’s pelvis. “You make me do things I never would, want things I never would… Need things I never would,” Tezuka whispered. “I just wanted to return the favor.”

Fuji’s eyes slowly opened. He studied Tezuka, somehow regaining his senses.

“I think you misunderstand, Tezuka,” he muttered. 

“I understand better than you think,” Tezuka replied, wanting to kiss Fuji again. It was no longer about revenge for unwelcome feelings. Now he just wanted to feel those lips on his. “I know I never would have gotten a finger on you if you hadn’t wanted it, but I also know that you resisted because you're afraid,” he said.

“How would you know that?” Fuji asked, his voice a soft whisper against Tezuka’s lips.

When had they gotten so close again?

“Because, to me, you’re easy to read,” Tezuka replied. Then, he said, “I’m sorry. I acted like a brat.”

Fuji kissed him gently, just a pressing of their lips and then a quick retreat. “It’s okay if it’s you,” Fuji whispered. “I trust you.”

Those three simple words turned Tezuka’s world upside down. Where once he had wanted nothing but Fuji’s body and submission, now he found himself inexplicably drawn to a deeper part of this mysterious genius.

Tezuka didn’t believe in love, but he did believe in trust. Trust truly came from the heart.

“Then let me have you all to myself,” Tezuka whispered before kissing Fuji once more, briefly dipping his tongue into that sweet, inviting mouth. “Learn to control your sex appeal.”

“What do you mean?” Fuji asked, both of them murmuring into the kiss, their lips and tongues brushing as they spoke.

“Stop seducing everyone around you all the time,” Tezuka growled, grinding his erection against Fuji. “From now on, you’re only allowed to seduce me.”

“I-I’ll try,” Fuji breathed, reaching between them to squeeze Tezuka through his clothing.

Tezuka groaned. Fuji was like a sex kitten from hell.

*

Fuji knew he was in way over his head. He was drowning. In fact, the surface seemed days away and even if, by some miracle, he managed to find the strength to kick back up, he would certainly pass out before he got there. 

Better just to slowly float, right? Or else sink like a stone…

As he felt the hard outline of Tezuka’s rigid erection, Fuji put an end to his overly dramatic mental tendencies, a little of the tension slipping out of his smile. He had to gain some control. 

He gently dragged his middle finger up the side of Tezuka’s clothed cock, knowing that the touch was barely felt. Meanwhile, the vice captain stared back at him, his eyes smoldering as if to melt his glasses, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. He was giving Fuji time to think. He was compassionate.

And there was another wave of surprise crashing down over Fuji’s head. In the last fifteen minutes, he had gained unexpected insight into several layers of Tezuka that, by all rights, shouldn’t exist.

He was both intrigued and terrified.

Tracing Tezuka up to the tip that poked into the waist band of his shorts, Fuji teased that sensitive area as he leaned in to kiss the vice captain. He was still lost in thought as he barely nibbled on the lips that had so recently been locked around his erection.

Just the thought of calm, quiet Tezuka on his knees and sucking him off almost—almost—dragged a moan from his lips. Had he not been so confused, it would have.

It wasn’t that Fuji didn’t find Tezuka attractive. How could he not? The lean, hard body. That soft, shaggy hair. Those pouty lips, so often pursed in warning or disapproval… 

It wasn’t even that Fuji was disturbed that he did find Tezuka attractive. He like men. He liked boys, too. He also liked girls, and women, and anything else that walked on two legs and was capable of sentient thought.

It wasn’t even that poor Yuuta was waiting for him after Fuji had finally convinced him to go out on a completely platonic, brotherly date. He’d promised no groping and no teasing, and finally Yuuta had agreed (well aware though he was of his devious, genius elder brother’s tricks).

Nor was it that only Yuuta was supposed to be aware of those devious tricks.

Plainly and simply, Fuji was confused that Tezuka, of all people, had cornered HIM, seduced HIM, confessed such sordid things as want and need, said Fuji was easy to read (and proceeded to prove it), and then apologized and referred to himself as a brat. Tezuka, Kunimitsu. The walking rock.

The tip of Fuji’s tongue brushed against Tezuka’s soft, full lips, and he felt a thrill go through his body. His fingers peeled back the waist band of Tezuka’s shorts and he brushed his thumb over the slightly weeping tip of his vice captain’s hard on.

Who knew Tezuka even experienced lust? 

Fuji knew he was sexy. He knew he was seductive. He didn’t do it on purpose, it was just how he was. If he tried to reign it in, he simply came off as cold and distant, and he didn’t like to be distant from people.

Still, it got him in trouble. Sometimes people took his natural behavior and came to the conclusion that it was all for them. That he wanted them.

Somehow, he didn’t think Tezuka had drawn that conclusion, even if, in this one case, it was almost true. Actually, he had thought that Tezuka was the only person who was not affected by him in the least.

Had he been aiming a few extra smiles at the vice captain? Perhaps subconsciously? Maybe a teasing swig of water, a suggestive brush of his racket over the front of his shorts—or the back?

As much as Fuji disliked the trouble his natural charm caused, he had to admit frustration at Tezuka's cold front. So much so that for weeks he had been able to think of no one else.

That was why he had concentrated on getting Yuuta to see him. The challenge of dragging his brother out of his adorably petulant shell was perhaps the only way to distract himself from jumping Tezuka in the showers, or at the water fountain, or on the courts...

Why, then, had he resisted Tezuka’s sudden advances?

Because he was afraid of getting hurt. All those cold, calculated looks, those calm glares, the brush offs, the one word answers… He found it hard to believe that this was real.

Again, he marveled at the way Tezuka was allowing him to ponder. His touch was responded to, but not urged. Such control, such restraint… 

Suddenly Fuji was blessed with an image of Tezuka ordering them all to run thirty laps then walking away as if he barely cared that they had done nothing to earn such punishment. Then, he would walk towards the bathroom, unhurried, as if he had planned this punishment to allow himself a subtle bathroom break – which no one would notice, of course, too busy killing themselves with laps to please him. Once he reached the bathroom, Tezuka would suddenly rush to a stall, reach inside his shorts and start to stroke a rigid, weeping erection, throwing his head back and moaning silently.

The image so pleased Fuji that he hummed against Tezuka’s lips. “Do you really want me?” he muttered.

“Yes,” Tezuka half whispered, half moaned. The pure need in his voice caused Fuji to shudder. His thumb, which had been lightly circling the head of Tezuka’s cock, suddenly pressed hard and flat on the tip and Tezuka moaned loudly, the sound rushing through Fuji’s lightly parted lips.

He had to know. He just had to.

“How long?” he asked. “How long have you wanted me?”

Maybe he hadn’t seen a sign of it because Tezuka had just woken up that morning and decided on a whim that he wanted Fuji to be his. Oddly, Fuji didn’t think he would mind, even if that was the case.

Tezuka was quiet, trembling slightly and breathing very precisely as if he could barely control himself. “I don’t remember,” he finally whispered. “Only that I agreed to play you last year because I already wanted you; wanted to be close to you; needed to see for myself what you were hiding.”

The answer was better than Fuji had ever dreamed.

Earlier, Fuji had spoken without thought, saying only what was in his heart. He trusted Tezuka in a way that he trusted no one else. He trusted that stern glare more than he trusted any face that bared its emotions to the world. He trusted that hidden talent more than any player that had proven himself above all else.

He couldn’t answer why. He didn’t know. Only that he did trust. Watching Tezuka so far off, even while standing right at his side, Fuji felt closer to him than any other person. Now he understood at least a tiny fraction of that puzzle.

Tezuka felt the same about him. Tezuka could read him because from that far away mountaintop that he stood upon, looking down on them all, he was closer to the bottom of Fuji’s ocean than Fuji was himself. 

It was strange, scary, and more than a little startling. It was also very, very sexy.

Smiling, Fuji mentally took a ball and chain and clasped it around his ankle. Then, he began to sink without a second thought.

He kissed Tezuka ravenously, putting into it all the loneliness and longing that had tormented him for so long. He sent his thoughts through his tongue to Tezuka’s, expecting the vice captain to understand through this kiss that he was giving all of himself, or nothing. Nobody else could have that offering, and if he was rejected, nobody ever would. Nobody else could reach him, nobody else was allowed to. Every step Fuji took, every seductive, swaggering, step—look, touch, breath, bite… everything he did, it would be for Tezuka alone.

His hand tightened around Tezuka’s erection and he began to stroke. His thumb swiped unconsciously over the tip at the end of every new thought, and as his thoughts began to race, his tongue brushed over Tezuka’s, delving deeper into his mouth. His pace sped, his grip tightening as he stroked faster and Tezuka began to thrust into his hand.

One last brush, one last moan into Tezuka’s mouth, one last caress of his tongue to say that Tezuka had better understand because none of this would ever be repeated out loud, and Tezuka came, moaning unintelligible words into Fuji’s mouth and shuddering all over.

Fuji smiled. He doubted either of them had the faintest idea of what they’d gotten into. He also doubted that either of them cared.


	2. Cat and Mouse

Fuji bit back a moan. Tezuka loved to do this to him. Drag him into the locker room for a private word, shove him roughly up against a wall, kiss him so deeply he almost passed out, and grind against him until he soiled yet another pair of underwear.

Tezuka said he loved Fuji’s sensitivity. Well, Fuji loved Tezuka’s aggressiveness.

He also loved the fact that the whole team was training obliviously out there on the courts, while he and Tezuka were in their own little world just on the other side of a door. He loved the fact that Oishi might come looking for them at any moment, and if he did, he would learn that Fuji was Tezuka’s—no mistake.

Tezuka abandoned his lips and growled quietly into his ear, grinding viciously against him and making him gasp. Unable to hold back the sound, Fuji let his breath out on a whimper, adding another syllable to the wordless noise as Tezuka’s teeth grazed his ear.

“Why don’t you moan for me?” Tezuka murmured sexily.

“They’ll hear us,” Fuji breathed, both terrified by the prospect and highly turned on.

If only they knew what their beloved captain was like at times like this. If only they could see the way he changed when he was taken over by lust—lust for Fuji. That, more than anything else, drove Fuji to orgasm time and time again, turning his face into Tezuka’s neck as small sounds escaped him despite his best efforts.

It didn’t fail this time. Fuji felt Tezuka’s hands on his ass. The captain sensed his approaching release, and held him still, grinding heavily against him, and continuing to rub as they both came, shuddering and gasping.

Still trembling slightly, Fuji sagged against the wall, his arms loose around Tezuka’s waist. He closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

“Quick,” he sighed. “Go change. I’ll be right behind you.”

Tezuka took the time to cup Fuji’s face and kiss him softly before silently retreating. He was so sweet when he wasn’t being sexy and aggressive—or stony and cold.

Fuji sighed. He knew their relationship was dangerous. He knew they would both be in big trouble if they were caught. He just didn’t care. 

He also knew that what was between him and Tezuka was probably based entirely on lust, and a good dosage of trust, but it wasn’t love. At least, he didn’t think Tezuka loved him.

As to whether or not he loved Tezuka… Fuji became less sure of his original answer every day. A year ago, he would have said he didn’t, that it was purely physical. Now… he wasn’t so certain.

Part of what kept him from backing out of what he thought of as an ‘intensely casual’ relationship, was that the thought of not being cornered and seduced by Tezuka made Fuji feel cold… and empty. 

That was also why he was becoming increasingly jealous.

He still had Tezuka. He was still the only one to see that sexy, passionate, aggressive lover. He was still the only one who could coax out that sweet, almost shy smile.

But that might not be the case for much longer if he didn’t ‘do’ something.

Fuji privately liked to think of Tezuka as his little sex kitten. Tezuka was a sly, playful cat, and Fuji was the prey. Well, now there was another mouse on the block.

Until now, Fuji had been absolutely certain that only he had ever made Tezuka ‘want’. Only he could arouse Tezuka. Only he would dare try.

Until now.

Until Echizen, Ryouma.

As much as he wished he could hate the rookie, Fuji couldn’t. Echizen had this aura about him that made people want be accepted by him, that made you want to be his friend. He was smart, talented, insolent, and just as inherently sexy as Fuji—and everybody noticed. 

Even Tezuka.

Echizen didn’t have Fuji’s smooth, seductive charm, but… There was something about him. It was almost as if his every action was a challenge on both a literal and sexual front, and what male could resist a challenge?

Fuji alone knew that Tezuka craved the thrill of conquering a challenge, the same way he had conquered Fuji. Now that he had the tensai under his belt, it was about time for him to start seeking a newer, harder mountain to climb.

Not that their encounters were becoming stagnant at all. No, they were just as hot and passionate as ever, and Tezuka certainly wasn’t bored… But Echizen was starting to creep into the captain’s radar, and soon Fuji would have to act, or else be pushed out of the picture. 

He wasn’t happy with either of those outcomes. Something had to be done.

*

Tezuka never tired of driving Fuji into a sexual frenzy and making him come before he remembered to protest the proximity of friends, parents, or innocent bystanders. Not that Fuji really cared.

No, where the resistance really came from was a power struggle that was simply disguised as modesty. Tezuka pretended not to care for such things, but when it came to Fuji, he absolutely needed to be in control. Why? …Because ‘nobody’ controlled the tensai. Fuji was a force of nature. Winning that subtle, intense battle with Fuji was something that Tezuka craved. It made him feel powerful, high… complete.

It had all begun with that first encounter almost a year ago, and the two had been craving each other ever since. Because they trusted each other, they were able to carry on a completely casual relationship without hurting each other, and still feel as passionate as they had in the first place. 

It was like a drug. The moment Tezuka saw the tensai he began to formulate a plan to get him alone just so they could touch again, and kiss, and cross those boundaries of intimacy that they weren’t allowed to in public.

Sometimes they managed to see each other up to five times a day, and sometimes they were unable to touch for a week. It was spontaneous, unstable, unpredictable… and everything Tezuka had ever wanted, yet never enough.

They lingered in a constant state of needing each other. Tezuka got the feeling that if they ever got any closer emotionally, the precarious balance they’d created would fall apart, and everything they had would be lost. 

Losing Fuji was the one thing that Tezuka was afraid of, more so than even the prospect of his arm never recovering and having to withdraw from tennis for the rest of his life. Losing the opportunity… the right to have Fuji in his arms, and kiss those soft, smiling lips… It was as if Tezuka stood at the edge of a chasm, and if he dared to look down, he saw nothing but cold, pitch black. The closer he looked, the more afraid he was of falling. So he took a step back just to be safe. 

So he and Fuji lingered in relationship limbo, but it was a damn pleasant limbo. Tezuka wasn’t complaining at all, and until the tensai said something, there was no reason to believe Fuji regretted it, either.

As to the… precarious aspects of their… relationship… Tezuka never worried that he would press too far. He knew he wouldn’t. In the beginning, he had worried every so often about whether or not Fuji knew that, but over time he grew confidant that there was no lack of faith between them. If Tezuka did go too far, Fuji would make it clear, but the tensai trusted him not to as much as Tezuka trusted himself. Moreover, Fuji liked their encounters the way they were. If he lost—when he lost—then he was willing enough to concede.

The somewhat public conduct of their encounters was all Tezuka’s doing, but naturally, of course, it was Fuji’s fault. How could one successfully play calm, centered, and controlled all the time with Fuji leaving you constantly hard? If he didn’t manage to get Fuji alone somewhere when the opportunity presented itself, Tezuka would have been driven unarguably insane a long time ago.

Fuji was Tezuka’s fire. He was dangerous, beautiful, tempting, unstable, deceptive, and if Tezuka didn’t play carefully he would get hurt. Badly. He just hoped a good breeze didn’t come along and fan the flames.

*

Little did he know that a breeze was already starting to blow. It was subtle, and rising very slowly, but the air was certainly no longer still.

Unlike a certain tensai, Echizen, Ryouma was completely unaware of his seductive qualities. All he knew was that he greatly respected his captain, and he was becoming aware of a certain, unfamiliar feeling.

He knew what it was—his idiot of a father had tutored him in that area long ago—but he had never experienced it before for himself. Now, he found himself watching a certain strong, handsome captain who had turned his world upside down.

When Ryouma had joined Seigaku, he had expected the same old, same old. He had expected a good enough team, but one he would rise to the top of rather quickly. What he found was an exceptionally stubborn, talented, and strong team, and at the head was captain Tezuka, Kunimitsu.

At first, Ryouma couldn’t figure Tezuka out. He’d been cocky and confidant that he could beat the mysterious captain whose skill he hadn’t quite gotten a glimpse of. Well, he eventually got more than a glimpse. He saw first hand just how strong Tezuka was, and it ignited something within him.

All of a sudden there was this burning drive, this curiosity, this… ambition in him. He not only wanted to play tennis, but he ‘needed’ to play tennis. He needed to become stronger. He needed to become worthy of Tezuka. To prove himself… To satisfy himself.

And so it began. Ryouma found his eyes drawn often to the captain, and he found himself thinking odd thoughts. Sometimes he wondered if Tezuka was impressed by this game or that form, and sometimes he felt just a little bit taller when Tezuka complimented him or even simply acknowledged him.

For someone who had never before had a crush, this was a strange thing.

*

Fuji lay awake, solemnly staring at the ceiling. His customary smile was nowhere to be seen, his expression entirely melancholy.

Right then, at that moment, he longed to have Tezuka lying beside him. He longed to feel that comforting presence; to feel that soft, warm skin touching his own. He longed to know that he could roll over and wrap his arms about his lover and wake up like that in the morning.

He longed for the impossible. 

Staving off unwanted depression, Fuji decided to let it go for tonight. He could linger over his current ‘relationship’ problems later.

To distract himself, he thought back to Tezuka’s forcefulness in the locker room earlier that day. It was easy to call up the memory of the scent that had overwhelmed him as Tezuka ground against him. 

There was a certain muskiness that Tezuka acquired out in the heat all day. It wasn’t quite the smell of sweat, certainly not when Tezuka didn’t even play. Rather, it was just this pleasant, manly… musk that was drawn out in the heat.

Fuji loved it. Just that scent could arouse him easily, and the moment Tezuka pushed him up against the wall and he was closed in… he caught that scent and it sent his head reeling.

Just thinking about it had Fuji erect in his own hand as he slowly, sensually stroked himself.

*

Ryouma bit his knuckle as his other hand—wrapped firmly around his erection—squeezed strategically. He was thinking about a ‘movie’ he had once caught his father watching. Ironically, it was tennis themed, and two players had abandoned the rackets and somehow gotten all rolled up in the net, grinding against each other. 

Never before had Ryouma considered that even remotely sexy—and he hadn’t stopped to ask why his father was watching gay porn in the first place—but suddenly, if he imagined that Tezuka was the one grinding into him, the net binding them together, their game completely forgotten… the image became highly appealing.

His breath hitching, Ryouma swiped his thumb over the tip of his weeping erection. He let his breath out on a soft groan, all the while thinking, “Tezuka!" and "Buchou!” over and over again.

*

One would think that it was enough, cornering Fuji earlier that day. One would think that the two brief encounters of the day before would certainly suffice. One would think that the consecutive record of Tezuka masturbating to the thought of Fuji almost every night for the past year and a half would take the edge off.

Not so.

Just as always, Tezuka had been determined not to touch himself as he slipped naked into his bed. Just as always he had resisted the way his thoughts kept returning to every little thing the tensai had done to his libido that day. For about five minutes. Just as always, he had caved and wrapped his hand around his persistently throbbing cock, having already been hard for at least an hour.

Somewhere, deep down, Tezuka knew he was in very real trouble. Somewhere, deep down, he knew his obsession with the tensai was unhealthy.

Fuck deep down. He didn’t care.

Reaching into his drawer, the other hand already stroking steadily, he pulled out the lube, uncapped it one-handed, and briefly paused to coat himself before continuing the action. He’d gotten very smooth with that routine…

Licking his lips, Tezuka exhaled a sigh, his thoughts centered on Fuji. He imagined the tensai’s lips teasing the head of his cock. He imaged soft breath sending shivers up his spine and tingles beneath the sensitive flesh he himself was touching. He imagined steely blue eyes almost glaring up at him, promising to win next time and gain control.

He remembered those same eyes closed in submission as he brought his tensai to blinding orgasm. He remembered Fuji drawing the same orgasmic bliss out of him.

The images continued. Memories, fantasies… He had a whole album of them tucked away in his mind for different occasions. 

Tonight, however, the one that stole his breath away was the rare fantasy of watching Fuji with someone else. The one that made him bite back a moan and arch into his own hand was a vivid image of shaggy brown hair trailing over creamy white skin, soft red lips brushing a flushed cheek, steely blue eyes staring into dilated pupils ringed by gold...

In Tezuka’s fantasy, Ryouma cried out as Fuji thrust deeply into him, and Tezuka came as well.

*

Ryouma thrust eagerly into his hand, his orgasm almost surprising him as his fantasy Tezuka came whispering his name.

*

“I love you,” Fuji breathed aloud, echoing the words he moaned in his fantasy as Tezuka came deep inside of him and he arched closer to the captain’s sweat slicked, trembling body.


	3. Mouse Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, there’s a reference in the manga’s Q&A section to Tezuka being bad at Math. I promise I haven’t tarnished our dear captain’s perfect reputation without reason. :p

From the moment Ryouma accepted his feelings for Tezuka, his crush progressed rapidly into something more. He found himself thinking about Tezuka all the time, and before long, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to do something.

Little did he know that Fuji and Tezuka were engaged in a pseudo relationship. As far as he was concerned, Tezuka was available and up for grabs. Well, aside from the little question of his sexuality… 

The thing was, Ryouma was convinced that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. For all his professionalism and lack of favoritism, Tezuka did seem to favor Ryouma above the rest—well, maybe with the exception of Fuji, but Fuji was a tensai—and it wasn’t difficult to interpret that favor as something else. In fact, it was almost certain that Tezuka felt something for Ryouma. Whether the captain knew it or not, he was sending off signals.

Ryouma may not have been terribly experienced in matters of the heart, but he had listened to enough of his father’s spiels about girls and relationships to know when someone was giving off signals, and Tezuka was. He was sure of it.

*

Losing Tezuka was unacceptable.

That was the one truth that allowed Fuji to come to the conclusion he eventually met after several weeks of closely watching Echizen and Tezuka interact. That conclusion being that he needed to consolidate his hold on Tezuka; now.

It didn’t take a tensai to see that Tezuka and Echizen were a very good match. Were they together, they would be the kind of couple that everybody would be constantly jealous of, and yet couldn't help but accept. They were on the same wavelength. They were… they were similar enough and different enough that Tezuka would probably be better off with Echizen, and that was something Fuji couldn’t accept. 

Along with that realization came another revelation that was even harder to swallow. Fuji was finally able to admit to himself that he was deeply in love with Tezuka. 

Just accepting that fact caused a lump to rise in his throat and tears to well up in his eyes. Fuji was in love with Tezuka and all he had were fleeting, secret moments in the locker room, or the janitor’s closet, or whatever other secluded location they could find at the time. It was suddenly an extremely cruel and painful reality, and Fuji refused to live with it any longer.

He needed Tezuka to be his. He needed Tezuka to love him. He needed… He needed Tezuka. In so many ways that there was no doubt his need was greater than anyone’s, Echizen included, Fuji needed Tezuka.

*

Early in the morning, before the team usually arrived for practice, Ryouma cornered Tezuka in the locker room. He forewent the usual greetings, tossing his bag onto the bench and strolling up to the captain. 

"Good morning," Tezuka greeted, bemusedly.

“Buchou,” Ryouma breathed as he reached his arms up around Tezuka’s neck, rising up on his toes.

“Echizen,” Tezuka responded automatically, his mind in a haze of shock. 

He was busy trying to think of something to say when Ryouma halted his thoughts in their tracks, tugging just a touch impatiently on his neck until Tezuka bent down to the smaller boy’s lips.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be kissing Ryouma, considering his involvement with Fuji, and yet, he didn’t know why he didn’t stop. Rather, he closed his eyes and returned Ryouma’s kiss, his hand sliding up the boy’s back to support his neck.

His attachment to Fuji inhibited him from pushing any further, and so he responded only to Ryouma’s pace, though he was no less absorbed in the kiss. In fact, he rather enjoyed it… Actually, he found himself wanting much more, though he wouldn’t allow himself to pursue it…

Eventually, they had to break for air, and after a frozen moment, Tezuka slowly, reluctantly let go of Ryouma and took a step back. They stared at each other for a little while, Ryouma looking adorably flushed. Then, the younger boy made to move, paused, his eyes on Tezuka, and then slowly walked to his locker, scooping his bag from the bench as he went. He silently took his tennis gear and replaced it with his school things whilst Tezuka looked on.

Sometimes, there was a dialogue between the two of them that couldn’t be explained. There was no real communication, but somehow they were able to interpret the other’s actions. It was a phenomenon born of similar natures.

Tezuka understood innately that Ryouma didn’t want to push anything but he was letting Tezuka know that he was there; solidly and firmly. He’d backed away without saying anything because he’d read the signals that Tezuka was hesitant for whatever reason—but there was no mistaking the opportunity that Ryouma had made clear, should Tezuka wish to accept.

Well, Tezuka suddenly realized he did wish to accept but he wasn’t free to do so. Well, not entirely. Well, maybe…

No. Tezuka loved Fuji. He knew that. Even though his relationship with Fuji wasn't official, or properly committed, his feelings for the tensai were undoubtedly real. 

So why had he allowed Ryouma to kiss him? Why had he kissed the boy back? Why was he suddenly wondering just how much Fuji loved him and whether it was worth waiting around when he now knew Ryouma wouldn't make him wait at all.

Okay, so it was complicated. What Tezuka needed was some time to think. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen.

*

“Tezuka.”

“Mm?”

“Would you… like to come study at my place, tonight?”

“Study?”

“I heard you telling Oishi you were a week behind in Mathematics… I could help you. I’m good with numbers.”

“Fuji… You’re good at everything.”

“…It’ll be quiet. My parents are in Hokkaido, Yumiko left for her holiday to Australia this morning, and Yuuta won’t be home until the weekend. It’s the perfect chance to study.”

Tezuka stared at him for quite some time, and Fuji cursed his damned trembling hands. “Thank you. I’d appreciate the chance to catch up,” the captain said at last.

“Good. Then I’ll meet you after practice this afternoon,” Fuji said with a smile, though inside he felt sick. He quickly turned to walk away, needing to get out of there and splash some water on his face, but he was stopped.

“Fuji.”

Fuji froze as Tezuka’s arms quickly slipped about his body. He glanced around but the last person had just left the locker room, leaving him alone with the captain.

Fuji closed his eyes as a shiver ran through his body. He’d been terrified that Tezuka would say no, crushing more than just his hopes. Even though Tezuka had accepted the invitation, Fuji still felt nervous as hell, probably the backlash of the adrenaline he’d built up in order to pose the invitation in the first place. That said, the last place he wanted to be was in Tezuka’s arms. He might say something stupid.

“I-” Oh, he did NOT just stutter! “I just thought-”

“Nothing would make me happier than studying with you,” Tezuka breathed into his ear. “Well… Almost nothing.”

Fuji’s knees melted as Tezuka sucked his earlobe between those damned gorgeous lips and nibbled on the sensitive flesh. He was so flooded with a mixture of emotions and lust that for a moment, just a moment, he nearly lost control.

But that wasn’t acceptable. No, Fuji certainly was not going to make a fool of himself. Not now.

“Good,” he said, his voice thankfully sounding almost stable once more. “Then I imagine you’ll have a lot to look forward to,” he said, before breaking away—just in time to brush past Kikumaru on his way outside. The acrobat must have forgotten something.

“Fujiko!” he called out as Fuji walked unnecessarily hurriedly out the door, but the tensai was determined not to turn around. He had to gain some ground. He had to remember who he was dealing with. Once he gave everything to Tezuka, there would be nothing to keep the captain interested.

*

Tezuka watched Fuji go. 

He was a little lost. All of a sudden, Fuji was making a move to step up their relationship. All of a sudden there was a hint of feelings that hadn’t been visible before, and Tezuka reacted instinctively, responding to Fuji's outstretched hand—but perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to do.

Was it coincidence that the sudden change of circumstance coincided with Ryouma’s advance? Surely. But the timing was terrible. Tezuka couldn’t be more confused.

Oh, he loved and wanted Fuji very much, but he was ever the analytical one. He needed to understand his response to Ryouma that morning, because like it or not, he had responded, and he had responded with unexpected enthusiasm. 

The truth was, he was beginning to suspect feelings for the rookie that had been shadowed by his love for Fuji. He needed to know how deep those feelings ran before he committed to anything. He really needed to go straight home after school, lock himself in his room, lie on his bed, and think.

And yet, he couldn’t. If he hadn’t accepted the tensai’s invitation, he had no doubt that not only would their relationship never progress, but he would probably have lost Fuji forever. 

So Tezuka was left in a tight spot. He needed to be open with himself and honest with his own feelings. He couldn’t just ignore what had happened with Ryouma. It wasn’t fair to himself, it wasn’t fair to Ryouma, and it wasn’t fair to Fuji. Of course, he couldn’t tell Fuji. That wouldn’t go down well. Nor was he prepared to choose Ryouma over Fuji after just one kiss—incredible though it had been.

No, he was left with little choice but to keep the situation to himself for the moment, stick to the arranged plan, and think long and hard about it later, when he was alone.

“Tezuka?” 

Kikumaru was staring at him, head tilted to one side in question. He then looked at the door that Tezuka had been staring at, and back.

“Do you ever wonder if there’s anything Fuji is not good at?” Tezuka asked as a cover up. 

“Nya! I know what Fuji’s bad at!” Kikumaru replied cheerfully.

“Oh?” Tezuka asked, truly curious.

“If I told you, Fuji would kill us both,” Kikumaru replied with a grin.

“If you don’t tell me, you might not survive the laps,” Tezuka replied casually, inwardly smirking. He knew Kikumaru wouldn’t be able to resist a crack at Tezuka’s infamous punishment.

The acrobat gulped heavily, and looked around as if in fear that they may be overheard. Then, he grabbed the bag he’d left on the bench, dashed up to Tezuka and whispered, “Cooking,” in the captain’s ear before running off with a wave.

Cooking, huh? With Fuji’s taste in food, that actually seemed likely… Well, it was nice to know that even Fuji had a weakness.

Meanwhile, had he been imagining things? Fuji had been trembling in his arms, and Tezuka highly doubted the tensai had been so drastically affected by lust in such a short time. 

It gave Tezuka both hope, and pause. On one hand, the chasm suddenly didn’t look so deep, but on the other hand… On the other hand, there was already someone standing beside him on even ground, someone he was drawn to, who was undoubtedly reaching out to him from just a step away… 


	4. Tom Cat

Tezuka paused before Fuji's front door. He was hesitant to knock and thus set things into motion. He had no doubts that something different was going to happen between he and Fuji this night, but he didn't have a clue what to expect. Would Fuji jump him as soon as they were alone together? Would they really study? If Tezuka showed his reluctance, would Fuji back off, would he push harder... would he get angry? There were just too many possibilities where Fuji was concerned.

And Tezuka was still hesitant. No matter what happened between he and Fuji, he still hadn't had a chance to think about Ryouma. He didn't want to start something with Fuji that might fall apart in the future because he didn't take that time, but... he couldn't avoid it. If he backed away from Fuji now, they would fall apart.

So Tezuka took a quick breath and knocked.

"Ah, Tezuka, come in," Fuji said, opening the door and smiling as ever. "You're just in time. I thought we could have something to eat while we study," he suggested as he led Tezuka into the dining room.

It was impossible not to follow the slight sway of Fuji's hips with his eyes. If Tezuka wasn't mistaken, the tensai's shirt seemed a size too small and his jeans were sitting a touch lower than he usually tended to wear them. Damn him, but he was doing this on purpose.

Of course he was. It was Fuji.

Well, Tezuka was not going to let him win that easily. First, he was going to take the opportunity offered to catch up on some Maths.

Or so he thought.

Oh, Fuji was amiable enough, helping him review some of the earlier work before walking him through the latest problems. Occasionally they'd pause to munch on some of the snacks Fuji had laid out, and every so often, Fuji would leave Tezuka to his own devices whilst pottering around in the kitchen doing menial tasks such as wiping the bench or washing up the couple of dishes hanging around. It would have been a nice evening of worthwhile study.

Except that Tezuka couldn't remember a thing they'd discussed to do with Maths. Fuji was driving him crazy. The way he reached for his teacup, the way he sucked on a piece of orange, that way he breathed...! Nothing was sacred!

"Ne, Tezuka," Fuji muttered suddenly.

Tezuka, already staring intensely at Fuji's back, said nothing. He waited.

Fuji placed the last, dried dish that had recently held his sister's delicious lasagna on the rack before turning to face his captain. The way he leaned back against the sink, exposing a teasing view of his flat belly, caused Tezuka's fist to curl involuntarily to divert the tension from gathering in another part of his body.

"You haven't heard a word I've said pertaining to Mathematics, have you?" Fuji asked.

"Of course not," Tezuka replied calmly. "You didn't bring me here to study."

"No," Fuji breathed, already moving toward Tezuka. He slipped between the chair and the table, sliding into Tezuka's lap as he wrapped his arms about the captain's neck. "I brought you here because we have all the time in the world tonight. No one's going to walk in on us. No one's going to overhear us. We can take our time, strip so we don't have to worry about soiled clothes, and when we're done, we can sleep beside each other and wake up in the morning with someone to hold."

"Is that what you want?" Tezuka asked, afraid of the answer, because he wanted that so desperately that he was terrified of achieving it. Only when you have something can it be lost.

"Yes," Fuji breathed. "That's what I want."

His lips, already a mere breath away from Tezuka's, inched closer, but he paused and waited, perhaps for Tezuka to object. Tezuka didn't object, and Fuji's eyes closed as their lips met in the first kiss they'd ever shared that held more emotion than passion.

*

Fuji was afraid. He was so afraid that his hands were trembling. So whenever he could give Tezuka something to work on alone, he retreated into kitchen chores just to give his hands something to do. He had to calm down before he made his move. They'd never been alone like this before. It was almost too good to be true.

But what if Tezuka rejected him? What if he not only lost the chance to be closer to Tezuka, but the right to be with him altogether?

Finally, his hands submersed in the warm water of the sink as he scrubbed unnecessarily at a plate that had only worn a few crumbs, Fuji forced himself to remember a few things.

-

_“How long have you wanted me?”_

_“I don’t remember. Only that I agreed to play you last year because I already wanted you, wanted to be close to you, needed to see for myself what you were hiding…”_

-

_“Then let me have you all to myself. Learn to control your sex appeal.”_

-

_“Nothing would make me happier than studying with you. Well… Almost nothing.”_

-

Tezuka wouldn't reject him. No matter what, Fuji had to believe that. He just had to trust, because if he couldn't trust Tezuka, there was no one else.

"Ne, Tezuka," Fuji muttered, before he could think it over and talk himself out of it yet again. He finished drying off the last plate, and then turned to face his greatest obstacle and strongest support. "You haven't heard a word I've said pertaining to Mathematics, have you?" he asked, hoping that this would go the way he planned. No, he would make it go the way he planned. That was how it worked.

"Of course not," Tezuka replied, looking him evenly in the eyes. "You didn't bring me here to study."

The next series of moments were like a blur. Before he knew it, Fuji was in Tezuka's lap, saying things he knew he wouldn't be able to take back—and Tezuka let him say them.

"Is that what you want?" Tezuka asked, horribly unreadable in that moment though Fuji desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.

"Yes," Fuji whispered, because that way, the trembling in his voice wouldn't be heard. "That's what I want."

Tezuka would never say 'me too'. The only way Fuji was going to get a straight answer from Tezuka's lips was to ask them directly. When Tezuka didn't reject his kiss, Fuji felt his heart lighten significantly from the fear that had weighed it down, and as their lips brushed and molded against each other, that lightness grew and grew until Fuji couldn't tear his lips from Tezuka's if the roof collapsed around them.

He didn't know how long they kissed for, but compared to the other brief, hurried kisses they'd shared in the past year, it lasted forever.

*

Something nagged at Tezuka as he herded Fuji up the stairs. Even as he breathed something sentimental about their first exploration of each other in a bed, another face popped up in his mind. He remembered the feel of another pair of lips against his.

It was irritation that brought a growl from his lips, but Fuji didn't know that. Fuji accepted it as a sign of mutual longing and pulled Tezuka down on top of him—in a bed at last.

And then that realization hit Tezuka harder than he expected. He felt like it was too late. The fact that they were on top of a soft mattress, surrounded by soft sheets, encompassed by the quiet of an empty house... It was already too late to turn back, and he didn't want to. He'd never wanted to. Not when it came to Fuji.

*

As Tezuka entered him for the first time, Fuji sighed in relief even as tears of pain crept out the corners of his eyes and ran silently down his cheeks. Now he didn't have to worry about losing Tezuka, at least not to his own fear to make a claim. Now he had Tezuka for his very own, even if it made him vulnerable—but Tezuka was vulnerable, too. Sometimes he forgot that. It was okay. They were on even ground. More importantly... the things Tezuka whispered as he thrust again and again into Fuji's body stilled his doubts. Tezuka felt the same way. He wanted to be together, too. He wanted for them to be more. He always had.

Fuji's breath hitched and his grip tightened on Tezuka's arms. A little pain was nothing compared to the tortured longing of a year, and he soon overcame it, happiness swelling in his chest even as pleasure grew in his groin.

"Fuji, come with me," Tezuka breathed into his ear.

It wasn't the first time Fuji had heard those words, and yet they affected him like never before. He clung to Tezuka as he obeyed the command, his body shuddering with release even as he intimately felt Tezuka's own orgasm inside of him. For a long time afterwards, his arms didn't loosen from Tezuka's body.

Finally, Tezuka pulled out of the hold, brushing Fuji's sweaty hair back from his face.

"I can't stay," he said bluntly.

Fuji felt a familiar tendril of fear creep up inside of him. Was Tezuka just going to fuck him and leave-?

"Not this time," Tezuka added with a little smile.

Fuji's insides uncoiled, because he understood. Even if Tezuka couldn't stay tonight to hold him in the morning, he would soon enough. One step at a time. That was enough.

Fuji stretched out beneath him. "Next time you'll find out what you're missing tonight," he promised.

"And I'm sure I'll dearly regret leaving," Tezuka replied, the corner of his lips tugged up into a tolerant smile.

A brief kiss on the lips, and then he was gone, leaving Fuji alone on his bed... but just being in his own bed, alone though he was, with the slight scent of Tezuka's sweat... Fuji was happy.

*

Tezuka shivered as he walked down the cold, dark street. He rubbed unconsciously at his arms, walking fast. He wanted to get home, take a shower, and then think, because he so needed to think. The moment he closed his eyes, a shiver of a different kind filtered through him. Fuji's hands, body, scent, sound, touch... He could still sense it all, and it terrified him. For so long, he'd kept Fuji at arm’s length, afraid to get close because he didn't want to lose the one thing that mattered aside from a ball and racket. He was so afraid that if Fuji really got to know him, he wouldn't be wanted anymore. Worse, he was afraid that his in-abilty to deal with the complexities of other people would push Fuji away the closer they got.

His feet slowing to a stop, Tezuka closed his eyes and wrapped his arms about himself against the cold.

_"I brought you here because we have all the time in the world tonight. No one's going to walk in on us. No one's going to overhear us. We can take our time, strip so we don't have to worry about soiled clothes, and when we're done, we can sleep beside each other and wake up in the morning with someone to hold."_

He could have stayed. His mother knew where he was. She wouldn't have worried… Instead, he'd run away. He needed to think.

Rubbing at his arms once more, he picked up the pace. Once he was home, he could finally clear his head and consider everything from the beginning without any distractions.


	5. Cat Nap

“Shouldn’t you have sent him home already? Or called me?”

“Well, yes, but I had no idea you’d be home so late and he just curled up and fell asleep watching TV so I didn’t want to disturb him. Well, it’s far too late to send him home now. Do you have his number? I’d better call his parents before they become frantic.”

“You’ve been working all night, haven’t you? It wouldn’t be the first time you lost track of time and forgot to keep in touch with the rest of the world.”

“Kunimitsu… I’m sorry. I should have paid more attention. He’s just such a quiet, easy guest.”

“It’s alright. Novels don’t write themselves and your editor called three times last night. I do understand. It’s just… I’ll call.”

“No, I will. It’s my responsibility. You should take care of your friend.”

“He’s… a teammate.”

“Oh, of course! That super rookie from…”

“From the U.S., yes. Here’s the number. I’ll set up a futon in the guest room.”

“Sorry dear but it’s full of art supplies and cover drafts right now. Surely he can stay in your room.”

“Of course. Let me just settle my belongings and then I’ll wake him.”

Little did “Kunimitsu” and Mrs. Tezuka know that Ryouma had already woken at the sound of the door and was eavesdropping on their conversation from his comfy ball on the living room couch. It was a rare snatch of insight into his captain’s home life that explained some of Tezuka’s maturity and sense of responsibility.

With a small thrill of excitement, he waited patiently for Tezuka to come and collect him, wondering how his captain would choose to draw him from sleep. He should have known better. After all, it was Tezuka.

“Seeing as you’re awake, perhaps you can explain to your parents why you’re not coming home tonight.”

Cracking one eye, then the other, Ryouma indulged in the sight of Tezuka crouched just in front of him. He was still a little groggy, in truth, from a surprisingly deep and comfortable nap. He smiled lazily and shifted his head for a better view and even more comfort.

“No thanks. Dad never even noticed I was gone but he’ll lecture me anyway in front of mum while jumping for joy inside. He’ll do anything to get me out of the house at night.”

He’d thought Tezuka might actually blush a little at the implication but all he got was a raised eyebrow. His view of the captain shifted a touch and he began to wonder just how experienced Tezuka really was.

“What time is it?” he asked when Tezuka didn’t move or insist that he get up.

“Around eleven.”

Ryouma frowned. “Where have you been?”

“Studying,” Tezuka replied. The hesitation before he added, “With Fuji,” was interesting.

Neglecting to point out such obvious things as how very studious they must be to have been studying all this time, or how disruptive it must have been to the Fuji family for Tezuka to stay so long and then leave so late, Ryouma met the statement with silence and sat up.

“He offered to help me with Math. His family’s out of town so…”

They’d been alone then? Definitely not studying. Not the whole time. Not that Tezuka needed to finish that awkwardly aborted sentence or explain any more than he already had. This was practically babbling for the cool and collected captain. In fact, Ryouma was starting to wonder if he hadn’t been very, very wrong about his captain’s interest in him.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay over,” Ryouma said casually, not having to fake the yawn that intruded on the sentence.

Ok, so there was definitely something going on here, beyond the secret affair between Tezuka and Fuji that Ryouma had only just clicked onto. There was a combination of guilt, regret, fear, and even a hint of conviction in Tezuka’s eyes, all for just a moment before he unfolded from his crouch and straightened the already level frames upon his nose.

“Come on. It’s well past your bedtime.”

Ryouma scowled at his captain’s back for one indulgent moment, then thrust his tongue out impudently. By the time they entered the hall where Tezuka’s mother was just hanging up and making a circle with her arms to indicate they had the go-ahead, he was smiling politely.

*

Tezuka was too distracted to make conversation. His brain was alternating between going a mile a minute and freezing up completely. Instead of having some alone time to think things through and decide whether he was ready to take the next step with Fuji or consider the confusing feelings he may have for Ryouma, the very source of his confusion was about to spend the night by his side. 

In all the time he’d been with Fuji, they had never shared a room, aside from group lodgings at training camps. Suddenly, he wondered why. He and Oishi had slept over at each other’s houses several times. Even Inui had spent the night at his house once. Kikumaru spent more time at Oishi’s house than at his own but he had also been a guest of the Fuji family on many an occasion, as had Kawamura.

Why, then, hadn’t he and Fuji considered sleeping over at each other’s houses before? Nobody would have questioned it, and it would have been preferable to their hurried, dirty encounters. It should have been. So why did the idea of losing those disappoint Tezuka?

He really did love Fuji and he wanted for them to be together. It didn’t make any sense to hold onto the most difficult and tiring aspect of their relationship when he was being offered more.

“Buchou?”

Tezuka fumbled with the glasses case he had just picked up and dropped it on the desk with a muted clatter that sounded like a dropped hammer on a hollow deck to his self-conscious ears.

His body was still humming with residual desire but it was also awakening to a new kind of energy giving off little sparks of excitement whenever his awareness of Ryouma’s presence spiked. How was he going to sleep like this?

When he turned to retrieve the run-away-case that had skittered off the desk and across the floor, he saw Ryouma seated on the futon, unbuttoning his shirt without hesitation. Why would Ryouma call him while taking off his clothes? Surely he knew Tezuka would look.

The answer was simple. He didn’t mind—and why should he? They saw each other naked in the club room all the time. This was no different.

It was, though. Seeing Ryouma’s pale skin revealed as he shrugged off his shirt had a whole new meaning in this space that was Tezuka’s private room. It made Tezuka feel powerful and predatory. Instead of hurriedly averting his gaze, he gave in to the underlying urge to let his eyes roam in a way he never would in the club room. He wanted to make Ryouma blush and realize his mistake. He wanted the boy to regret feeling so at ease. He wanted Ryouma to reconsider feeling so comfortable with the idea of sleeping in Tezuka’s room.

It had all happened so smoothly, so easily. Where Fuji had had to specifically invite Tezuka to stay and make it clear that they would be alone and that he wanted for them to spend the night sleeping side by side, Ryouma had just shown up and wound up at Tezuka’s bedside. So little effort, and so little intention. It was just so easy.

That didn’t mean Ryouma could relax. Tezuka certainly wasn’t relaxed. It was time for them to be on equal ground.

Tezuka sank to his knees before Ryouma and met the boy’s eyes as he leaned forward. It was almost, but not quite, a one-armed embrace. Tezuka reached around Ryouma to push the door all the way closed, implying that his long, lingering stare had been in concern for the open doorway and his mother’s presence in the house. Then, he sat back onto his backside, putting some space between them as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, abandoning the pointed stare.

“Did you want something?” he asked casually, taking pride in the flex of his muscles as he extracted his arms in the showiest way he could contrive without going overboard.

In the back of his mind, he knew he should stop this game. Fuji’s name was a constant mantra, but he’d already been ignoring it from the moment he saw Ryouma undressing and it held less and less power by the moment. Still, it was there, and it would never fade completely. Whether he backed off and went to sleep or… something else happened… guilt was a reality he was going to have to face tomorrow.

“Did I… do something wrong? Is my staying here a problem?”

“Not at all.”

“You’ve barely said a word since we came in here.”

“I wasn’t expecting company. I have a lot on my mind.”

“…Me?”

“In part.”

Perhaps this was the solution. Thinking might only get him so far and having only sampled one side of the equation, how could he make the right decision? Was he so wrong to sample the other half in order to be sure he was making the right decision? Nothing was settled between he and Fuji yet. They were still casual partners, and while he had not been with anyone else since their relationship began, he had no guarantee that Fuji had not and there was no specific agreement between them on such matters. It had never before occurred to him to do with anyone else what he did with Fuji. The difference was that now it had, and he needed to know what that felt like before he could commit to something more binding.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Echizen,” he began, then amended the tone to something a little softer. “Ryouma. I’m simply trying to process a few things that have changed since you made it clear to me that-”

“Nothing’s changed for me. Since I kissed you… Since I came to your house to talk about it… Since I woke up when you got home. Since I figure out you’re… Nothing’s changed for me.” Tezuka searched for the right response in a welling of silence but Ryouma wasn’t done. “I kissed you because I’ve wanted to do that since I met you and—I knew you wanted it, too, even if it was up to me to show you.” Again, Ryouma paused just long enough that the wheels in Tezuka’s brain kicked frantically into gear but he had one final point to make. “So now you know what I’m thinking—and you’re thinking about it, too, so the next move is all yours.”

Standing up, Ryouma turned his back and fumbled at his belt, dropping his pants. He scooped them up and tossed them on top of his bag with his shirt, neglecting to make eye contact when he turned around again, now in his boxers. He reached for the blanket and then slid into the futon as best he could with Tezuka pinning half of the covers down.

The ball was in Tezuka’s court but he could take it or leave it. In fact, Ryouma was making it really easy for him to let it pass without much blame. All he had to do was finish getting ready for bed himself, turn out the light, and then make an effort to go to sleep. Then, he could be proud of himself in the morning for resisting temptation and he would know he had chosen Fuji fair and square.

Except that he hadn’t, because he still really wanted to tear off that blanket and find out what it was about Ryouma that stirred his blood.

*

When Tezuka abruptly announced that he was going to take a shower, Ryouma thought that was it. He’d lain out his cards and Tezuka and neatly tidied them up as if to hand them back. In actual fact, he was shuffling.

When Tezuka returned, clad only in a towel, and then lay down on the futon, Ryouma was as confused as he was excited. Then Tezuka tugged at his shoulder and he rolled onto his side and was greeted by a view he’d never anticipated would set his heart beating so fast. When Tezuka kissed him, it was the minty fresh breath and the smooth, clean skin under his hands that clarified Tezuka’s sudden need for a shower.

Ryouma now strongly suspected that Tezuka and Fuji were messing around with each other, at the least, but he’d never seen any hint of a relationship between them and there were no rumors, so they couldn’t be dating in the traditional sense. Whatever had happened at Fuji’s, Tezuka had not only declined to stay, he had also left before cleaning up after his misadventures.

Jealousy was only natural but Ryouma put it on the backburner. He’d already indicated to Tezuka that he knew there was something going on between the captain and Fuji, and he’d meant it when he implied he didn’t care. He didn’t know what would come of this and he knew he would struggle to come to terms with anything less than gaining a boyfriend if they did this now but he was determined not to regret it. Whether Tezuka and Fuji were dating or not was immaterial. It was wrong to covet someone who was already involved with somebody else. Ryouma couldn’t just turn off his feelings, though, and Tezuka seemed to have his own reasons for going ahead with it, so there was nothing more to agonize over.

Firm hands pressed him onto his back, pinning his shoulders to the thin padding that barely distinguished sleeping gear from floor. Usually, he hated sleeping on futons. Maybe he’d been spoiled in America but you really couldn’t beat a nice thick mattress on a proper bed. Right now, though, there was something about the make-shift bedding barely removed from the floor and the immoral circumstances of the whole situation that really turned him on.

Then again, Tezuka was more than enough of a turn-on. Without glasses, his vision was slightly unfocused but his eyes were unshielded by the usual lenses and somehow seemed more vibrant and emotional. Even while their mouths meshed together, Ryouma’s eyes kept peeling open, waiting for the moment Tezuka’s hungry gaze surfaced to check on him.

It was during one such moment that their tongues finally pried apart from one another and their lips found some distance. Both panted silently as they simply peered at one another, Ryouma wondering how he looked, flushed and disheveled, through Tezuka’s raw, imperfect vision.

The blanket separated them and it trapped Ryouma’s own body heat so that he felt a little lightheaded. “It’s really hot,” he gasped, wriggling uncomfortably.

It didn’t get much cooler as the blanket descended at the will of Tezuka’s fingertips which trailed down Ryouma’s skin, all the way to the waistband of his boxers. The captain took a long time studying his body, then, seeming to be considering something or other. Ryouma just waited for the verdict, and was rewarded when his captain bent over his belly and began licking a winding path up to his chest. The tingle that buzzed through him when Tezuka licked, sucked, and trapped his nipple between strong lips went far deeper than the skin and reached places that Ryouma’s logical mind said didn’t make any sense. The continuing attention to one nipple and then the other eventually made him so hard that the weight of the blanket became torturous.

“Buchou, I’ve never done this before,” he blurted out, in an effort to convey the fact that he was about to blow his load.

When Tezuka backed off and settled beside him on the futon with a whole hand span of space between them, Ryouma couldn’t decide whether it was a thoughtful move or a very nasty joke. Letting out a sound of frustration, he glared at Tezuka and focused on breathing and kicking off the blanket to try and take the edge off.

Tezuka, meanwhile, seemed perfectly at ease. Of course, he’d probably already gotten off at least once tonight, and he clearly had loads of experience. He very calmly reached out to brush a lock of hair from Ryouma’s face with his nails, careful not to make any skin on skin contact that would inspire further arousal.

The way he was looking at Ryouma was kind of annoying but it felt good that he looked so happy and didn’t seem to be worrying so much anymore. He had this cute little smile and his gaze was soft, like he wasn’t focusing on any one facial feature, but just taking in several parts of the whole as his eyes shifted.

“What are you waiting for?” Ryouma asked, a little irritated with himself for having given warning instead of just letting it happen and getting the relief that his nerves insisted was just out of reach.

“I’m wondering what level of knowledge you’ve come into this with, and what it is you expect to happen and what you want to happen. I should make myself clear and say that I don’t intend to have sex with you—not under these circumstances. As your captain-”

“Buchou!”

How strange it was to hear Tezuka laugh so casually and naturally, and to see that grin spread wide and then slowly shrink back to an indulgent smile. “Precisely. As your captain, it would be remiss of me to do anything your body isn’t yet ready for.”

The edge was certainly fading now as a blush of embarrassment layered upon the flush of sheer arousal. “Then why did you-?”

“There are plenty of alternatives,” Tezuka cut in, leaning in and sliding his hand down the flat of Ryouma’s belly, crawling it down under the waist band of his boxer shorts. “Are you willing to let me decide what’s best?” he asked, lightly caressing Ryouma’s urgent but somewhat less imminent erection.

As Tezuka tugged the silk shorts down to his thighs, Ryouma pouted, turning to petulance to mask his exultation. “Whatever. Just make it good,” 

His lips brushing against Ryouma’s ear, Tezuka whispered, “Only if you’re very quiet,” and then began to stroke.

*

He hardly recognized himself, but he was having so much fun. Washing off the sweat and traces of his session with Fuji had been like a ritual, cleansing and purifying him to enter into something new without restraints.

Only now did he begin to compare. With Fuji, everything was a game or a contest. There was always some struggle for mental dominance or a challenge to pass or a bar freshly raised. Yet again, Tezuka was struck by how easy everything was with Ryouma. A kiss was just a kiss and he could just drown in it and enjoy it. A touch was explorative, not strategic. Any statements were straightforward and descriptive, not metaphorical or suggestive. When Ryouma said he was hot, he meant he was hot; it wasn’t a veiled compliment to indicate that Tezuka was doing a good job without having to admit it in so many words. 

Ryouma made him laugh. He was so adorable, and so… unchanged. Ryouma was no different in bed than he was on the courts or with his friends. It was cute. Endearing. Refreshing.

Nuzzling Ryouma’s neck, Tezuka kept his wrist in constant motion, swiping his thumb up against the head of the boy’s length to gauge how close he was based on the frequency of each resulting gasp. He’d already been close. This was going to be over at any moment.

“Quietly now,” he breathed, placing his lips so that he was ready to swallow the slightest sound, but when Ryouma’s body jerked and his hips tensed, there were only a series of shuddering breaths to indicate his peaking pleasure. He really was exemplary.

As Ryouma came down, Tezuka let his lips glide over the gasping little buds that reached up for a deeper kiss but couldn’t quite see it through. When Ryouma’s eyes drifted open, he leaned back so he could see them a little better and enjoy the play of emotions there. It still amazed him that even though he knew there should be some kind of doubt or regret in him, or in Ryouma, he saw and felt nothing but gladness and appreciation.

Wrapping things up with one solid, lingering press of lips on lips, he moved abruptly to retrieve some tissues from his desk and wipe up any evidence of their deed. He fully expected Ryouma’s comfortable satisfaction to lure the boy towards sleep without a second thought for his partner but he should have given more credit.

“I’m fine,” he promised, pressing his forehead to a sleepy Ryouma’s in gratitude. “Don’t take this negatively but right now I can do without. I’d rather savor what we just shared as a mutual experience than get caught up in returning favors. I think… I can dream happily tonight.”

“In the morning, then,” Ryouma mumbled stubbornly.

“In the morning,” Tezuka agreed indulgently.

Under full disclosure, he wasn’t convinced he would feel as carefree when morning came. In fact, his haste to go to sleep was probably an undisclosed desire to shut down conscious thought before the euphoria wore off. Right now, though, he had no regrets, and not just about Ryouma. He was genuinely glad that Fuji’s feelings went below the skin, too, and for just a little while, he could appreciate the promise of that fact. If a part of him was already calculating how to battle the regret of the coming morrow while holding onto both Fuji and Ryouma for as long as possible, he was happy to let it plot without fully acknowledging its existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a long time coming but I hope you enjoyed this chapter and don't want to skin me for it. ^^;


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